


whatever floats your goat

by insp (said)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Harry is a Little Shit, M/M, Niall is rich, it's just really ridiculous, liam is a mailman, louis needs to revoke his all kinks kinky subscription, romantic costco dates, simon likes coffee, strap yourselves in guys, zayn's only in this because i can't let the ot5 dynamic go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10400133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/said/pseuds/insp
Summary: "Are those our cats?""No.""Then what are they doing in your car?"Harry shrugs. "Cats like me," is his explanation."I hate cats," Louis says.Harry's jaw drops. "That's it. we're getting a divorce.""That's what I've seen saying all along," Louis groans in relief.Or a crack-y fic in which Louis marries Harry by accident, Harry loves cats, Louis travels the world to make a cup of coffee, Liam just wants to be a good mailman, and Zayn and Niall are always along for the ride.





	1. it's all uphill from here

**Author's Note:**

> buckle your belts, kiddos.

Louis' life is fine.

He swings his legs from where he sits on his kitchen counter, resenting that his feet can't touch the floor, eating a bowl of low-fibre cereal while watching the television screen.

To give the reader an image of what his flat looks like: Imagine having a dog that shits a lot. It's not properly trained, so it shits fucking everywhere. On the carpet, in the hallway, on the tabletops. But instead of shit, it shits takeout containers and dirty underwear.

Have that image? Good.

In a few hours he'll have to be dressed and on the tube for his new internship.

Before the leaves the building, he opens his mailbox. There's a postcard from a sister and a letter from another.

The postcard is a picture of the Statue of Liberty, silhouetted before a beautiful azure sky, and a slightly tacky font reads _New York!_ In large letters. Louis flips it over.

_Hi Louis!_

_New York is bloody amazing. Can you believe I'm actually sending a postcard? Postcards are great and overpriced but that's ok because my job is great and I'm getting a promotion! I subscribed you for a year! Check out our latest issue!_

_Love you lots!!! How's England??_

_Fizzy xxx_

Well, she certainly seems excited.

Louis sighs. It's not that he's happy, no, ecstatic for his sister, but he feels isolated, in this dingy flat In Doncaster, and never having stepped foot outside the UK. He's a server at the Chinese restaurant around the corner and works for a company on an unpaid internship and has an unfinished teaching degree. Louis life seems to be full of _un-_ s.

"Morning, Deliah," he sas to the batty old lady who always hovers by the door throughout the day. Sometimes Louis gives her a latte or a bagel from the coffee shop.

On the tube, his phone pings. He opens the notification - an email from his other sister, Lottie.

_You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Lottie Tomlinson and George Hampton._

Louis smiles, then sighs. So they'd finally set a date.

It stings just a little because a few weeks ago, he thought he'd be married to his boyfriend, Greg.

But he's not going to think about that.

What he has to think about is how he's going to put together the money to be able to afford attending this wedding.

When he had been a teenager, he'd always had plans to do shit. Like, travel-the-world-and-find-himself kind of shit. But that's not an option for him anymore. So Louis settles for less.

Louis calls Niall.

"Happy birthday, mate," he says, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

"Thanks, Louis! Thanks!" Niall sounds as jovial and slightly deranged as he usually does. "Don't forget my party tonight! Are you ready to turn up or are you ready to turn up?"

"I'm -"

"Guess what? It's not an option! It's time to turn up, baby!"

"Yeah," Louis says. "About that. After the party, do you want to come back to my place and we can drive down to the lake tomorrow and camp out? Like old times?"

"Like high school, yeah!" Niall says. "Sounds absolutely incredible! Catch you later, Tommo!"

Louis guesses he's living life as a secondary character, always an extra pair of hands when someone needs than. But a good movie always has a trusty sidekick, right? To sacrifice himself when the villain tries to take over the world, or something?

Louis just sometimes wants to live his life as his own starring role.

But this is fine too.

The party Louis ends up at is on the other side of town, where the rich people live. Niall has friends everywhere. He has a pen pal from Korea. Niall has never been to Korea. Niall is incredible.

To be clear, Niall is incredible, not because of his charisma and connections, but because his party is providing Louis with all the free alcohol he can consume. He sidles up to Niall, who is dancing like an animal a few feet away from the DJ's booth. Apparently Niall's friends can actually afford a DJ for a house party, instead of turning on Spotify playlists like Louis usually does when people come over.

Niall's surrounded by some people Louis doesn't know, dancing so close together Louis is surprised they're not morphing together to become a single entity. Every one of them is drop-dead gorgeous and dancing with drinks in their hands _without_ spilling them.

"Louis! My mate! This is Louis, everyone." Niall's tipsy, which is clear by the way he moves and speaks. Everyone ignores this, but Niall doesn't seem to notice. "Louis!" he shouts. "How great do you feel tonight? How great are you feeling tonight?"

"Not drunk enough," Louis shouts back. "Hey, Happy Birthday."

"I know, right?" yells Niall back.

"Hey, Niall," says a brunette, wrapping her manicured hand around his arm. "We have a spot for one more in the party bus! Come on!"

"Hell yeah!" Niall laughs, stumbling away.

Louis moves after him through the crowd. "Erm, Nialler! What about the lake? Camping?"

"Lou! Don't worry about it! I'll be back by 1!" Niall gets out as the brunette shoots Louis a confused look and drags him away.

Louis is too sober for this situation. He doesn't know anyone here, and as always, Niall has obliviously left Louis for his cooler, richer friends. It's not like Niall knows, or realizes. Niall's drunk and out of his element. Normally, he'd never stand Louis up.

Right?

That's the moment he spots Greg on the arm of some blond at the other end of the hall.

Fuck this.

Louis heads to the living room, which is twice the size of his entire apartment and has a fucking _chandelier_ on the ceiling and grabs a drink from the table, taking a huge gulp. It tastes horrible.

"This tastes like loneliness," complain Louis to the man next to him.

"Bad night?" asks the guy, turning around.

"My ex is here," Louis says.

"Which one?" the guy asks.

"He's not - oh, there he is," Louis says, motioning towards Greg, who is entering through the door with his date. "We need to get out of here. Come on."

'No, I have a better idea," says the stranger, grabbing Louis' arm and turning his around. "Let's show him exactly what he's been missing."

The last thing Louis will remember is the feeling of long curls draping around his face when the man kisses him.

***

 

The sun shines faintly into the blue room, delicately dusting the floor and lighting up the side of the curly-haired man's face. Little kitten-shaped figurines are perched on the shelves, next to the thick volumes of books.

Louis sighs and rolls over, burying his face into the soft pillow. His hangover is making his head throb. And then he bolts up.

Louis isn't supposed to have a soft pillow in his bed. Because this isn't his bed. And his room isn't blue. He doesn't even read books and he hates cats. And he most definitely isn't supposed to have a curly-haired man in his bed next to him.

This is probably a sex dream.

"OK, I have to see this."

Louis draws the sheets away from the stranger's face. The other man has a sharp jaw and plush pink lips. When Louis pulls the sheets down farther, he realizes that _this guy is fit._ Which is nice. But he's also fully clothed. Which is not so nice. Louis looks down at himself. Yes, he's wearing clothing too.

Wild.

He pulls at a strand of curly hair to see how long it really is before the guy jolts awake.

"Good morning," he says. His voice is low and raspy and comes out in a drawl.

"Is this a dream?" asks Louis.

"I don't think it's a dream." He blinks slowly and rubs at his eyes. "Sun is nice today."

"Why am I in your bed?" asks Louis.

The man looks confused for a moment. Then, "Shouldn't I have my husband in my bed?"

"What?"

"My ol' hubby. My bae on fleek. You're supposed to be sleeping with me." He snaps his fingers.

"I'm not your husband." says Louis incredulously.

"Tell that to these papers." The man chucks something at him before rolling away. and burrowing into his pillow.

And. It's a marriage certificate with Louis' name on it.

His jaw drops.

He's married to a man named Harry Styles.

"Are you - him? Harry Styles?"

"Harry Tomlinson-Styles," the man mumbles. "You put up a big fight to get your last name first."

"No. This isn't real. This can't be happening. What the fuck?" Louis shakes the other man vigorously. He sits up and shakes like wet dog. "That's no way to treat your husband."

Louis is scrambling out of bed. "Look. We got married yesterday. We got married yesterday? It was Niall's birthday yesterday! Oh, fuck, did I drunk-marry you?"

Harry scrubs a hand through his curls and pouts. "I guess so, if you put it like that. I like to think of it was true love."

"I'm too hungover for this," groans Louis. "Is it too early to ask for a divorce?"

" _Yes,”_ says Harry, crossing his arms. "I already renamed our cats."

" _Our cats?"_ Louis shrieks, and as if on cue, two cats come winding into the room.

"Dizzy Tomlinson-Styles." Harry points to one. "Teapot Tomlinson-Styles." He gestures to the other.

"You named your cats Dizzy and Teapot?"

"Fuck yeah. It adds character."

Louis shakes his head, staring down at the paper before him. "Look, I'm sorry Harry, but this had been a mistake. I am not ready to be Mr. Tomlinson-Styles. I am not prepared for marriage and we must file for divorce at once."

"No we don't." said Harry. "We can stay married."

"I just met you today."

"Yesterday."

Louis shakes his head. "Whatever. I'm leaving, then I'm sorting this mess out."

Harry shrugs. "Whatever floats your boat, baby. Be back by dinnertime." he blows a kiss.

Louis gapes for a few moments before he leaves.

 

Louis calls Niall the second he's left the building, which seems to be crawling with cats. Louis hates cats. One of them is stalking him, he swears.

"Niall," he begins once the lad picks up, "I've drunk married a man named Harry Styles and now he wants to stay married."

"OK." There's a crunching sound. Niall must be eating something. Louis stares at his phones for a few moments. "Did you hear me? I just married a man."

"Where are you honeymooning? I heard Bora Bora is really nice this time of year."

"Niall. I don't know this guy. But now I'm Mr. Tomlinson-Styles and it's all your fault and I don't know what to do."

"Why can't you stay married to him?"

"Because I _don't know him!"_

"Yeah, but what if you get to?" Niall asks, then hangs up.

And Louis doesn't even get to think of an answer because a cat is shitting on his shoe. "Fuck you, Teapot Tomlinson."


	2. costco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Louis teabags Zayn, Louis is still married to Harry, and Perrie likes toenail polish. Harry and Louis have a romantic meal in Costco.)

He's starting to forget about his marriage when he's working with Zayn at the new internship he's just entered. His job is to make people coffee and tea and listen to discussions while he takes notes and they order him to bring them more coffees and teas. He's not sure what the company does, but it has to be something prestigious judging the businesslike air.

That's when his phone rings.

"Hello?" he asks when he picks up.

"It's dinnertime, babe."

Louis drops his phone. Bending to the floor, he shrieks, "How did you get my number?"

"I have my sources," Harry says, sounding nonchalant as ever.

Louis presses his nose to the screen of his phone, which is lying on the floor and is miraculously not cracked. "Fuck you. I'm not coming home for dinner."

"I refuse for my first marriage to fail like this," argues Harry from the other end.

Louis sighs. "I'm sorry. Me, too. This has all been a horrible mistake."

Harry doesn't say anything. Zayn and two passersby stare at him in disbelief.

"When were you going to tell me you got married?" asks Zayn as one of the women walking by with a coffee in her hand says "My husband is a really good divorce lawyer."

Louis shakes his head and holds the phone up to his ear. "Harry? You still there?"

Harry hums. "We have some things I want to sort out. Can I meet you for lunch sometime?"

"Yes. Yes, that'd be great. I'll see you then. Text me." Louis' finger hovers over the red _end calI_ button before Harry speaks again.

"Come home, baby. Dizzy Tomlinson-Styles misses you."

Louis hangs up.

 

"So do you think he's serious? Or just joking around until we inevitably get divorced?"

Zayn seems to mull this over as he signs for the FedEx package being delivered to the workplace. "I don't know. He sounds pretty loony. But you've always been a sucker for those crazy types. Remember when you brought home that guy and he set the living room on fire and then convinced you to run away together and I had to -"

Louis rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

"Why don't you stay married to him, though?" asks Zayn.

"You are no use!" Louys exclaims as he throws two pens at the other man. "Niall said the exact same thing! Can't you guys see that I've just met him? I can't marry him!"

"You just did."

 A tiny milk carton collides with the side of Zayn's stupid perfect face, exploding and dripping udder juice all over the side of his face and beard. Then comes a handful of teabags peppering the side of his face in quick succession.

Zayn slowly peels one off his shoulder. "You just teabagged me."

"How come everyone is telling me to stay married to this guy?"

"How do you know it's a bad thing?" asks Zayn, swiping a finger across his milky cheek and sucking it into his mouth. "We all know you'll never be able to get married otherwise. He might be your soulmate."

"You're not serious."

Zayn pushes his head under the sink and turns the tap on.

Perrie walks into the office's little kitchen, holding a notebook in her hands. "Here are today's orders," she tell Louis, flipping it over to the right page. Louis groans when he turns a page after skimming the first one. It's Mr. Cowell's list of how he wants his coffee precisely made.

"Where the fuck am I supposed to get 'Mount Fuji air?" Louis points to instruction #16 on the list.

Perrie shrugs. "Maybe we can fit in a trip to Japan this weekend. Which one do you think is my colour?" She holds up three nail polish bottles - green, blue, and one colour that Louis can only describe as vomit.

"That one." he points in the general direction of the green and blue.

"You're right." she says, nodding. "This one's my colour." She hops onto the countertop and unscrews the puke-coloured bottle before beginning to paint her littlest toe.

Louis looks down at the list (#24 - Three stirs with a unripe Jamaican banana) , to Perrie, painting her toes while wearing a suit jacket and sitting on top of a counter in their professional workplace, to Zayn, who is still washing his hair in the sink and humming a song by that boyband whose name Louis can't remember.

Louis just wishes his life was normal.

 

Harry eats in a fascinating way.

First, he sticks out his tongue before putting his fork onto it and drawing it into his mouth. It's a science.

"So, the terms of our relationship," says Louis, brandishing his hotdog at Harry.

"What terms?"

"I've written some things down," Louis says, sliding the list over to Harry. "And you'll sign at the bottom."

"O.K." Harry signs it without a second glance. Louis narrows his eyes, not because he's mad, but because he spent an hour choosing the right font and sizing for the occasion. And Harry's not going to appreciate his work? Fuck this. "We're staying married, though, right?" Harry gestures with his fork.

"Ew, yes," Louis replies.

"There's a good husband. Nuggets will be so happy."

"Who the hell is Nuggets?"

"Our cat. Buttnugget Tomlinson-Styles. I think he's really gotten attached to the Tomlinson part of his name. It gives him class."

 "I'm not even going to ask."

"Sirs, " the female Costco employee says to them for the third time this hour, "I'll have to ask you to step off the sample furniture if you're going to eat food."

They both ignore her.

Harry lifts his wineglass to Louis before taking a sip. They're surrounded by lit candles and a basket of food sits between them. It's all very romantic.

Coscto shoppers bustle around them. They're sitting between the bulk granola bars section and the frozen goods section of the sample furniture.

The lady speaks up as Louis is showing Harry how much garlic bread he's able to stuff into his mouth at once. "I'll ask you one more time to please leave the premises -"

"Ooh, look, darling, Costco is doing demonstrations now!" A middle aged woman points to Harry and Louis' dining situation. "That furniture looks simply beautiful. Do you think we need new lawn chairs?"

The Costco lady shuts up.

A small crowd gathers, buying all the lawn chairs they can afford and admiring the display. They're finishing up a cheese platter when the people start bidding on them. Louis is appalled. Harry is considering an offer for forty thousand dollars.

"No, he is not going to be sold for forty thousand dollars, sir," Louis calls as he grabs Harry by the hand and leads him away.

"Come on, Lou, it'll pay off my student debt."

"You don't know what that guy is going to do to you! He might kill you and skin you in front of your parents!"

"For some reason I doubt that."

Harry's car is orange. Harry own an orange car. It's hideous and Louis doesn't want to step foot inside it, because inside it is more cats.

"Are those our cats?"

"No."

"Then what are they doing in your car?"

Harry shrugs. "Cats like me," is his explanation.

"I hate cats," Louis says.

Harry's jaw drops. "That's it. we're getting a divorce."

"That's what I've seen saying _all along,"_ Louis groans in relief.

"Nah, I'm just joking. I'd never leave my one true love." Harry winks.

It's going to be a long day.

 

Louis calls a divorce lawyer. Harry knocks the phone out of his hands. "Don't do that. We haven't even gotten to know each other yet. Maybe you'll really like me."

"I really, truly, don't believe that's going to happen."


	3. all kinks kinky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louis misses his husband, doesn't know why he's going to japan, and doesn't want his magazine subscription.

Lately, Harry has been showing up everywhere. At Tesco's, at the bus stop, wherever Louis happens to be, he's there too. Harry gleefully calls all their strange meetings "dates." Louis is just grateful that Harry hasn't figured out where he lives yet.

He's there when Louis is getting a new tattoo, because he's the _fucking tattoo artist._

"Hi, baby," Harry says, cleaning something shiny and dangerous looking while he pores over tattoo designs.

"No. No no no. This is not happening," says Louis firmly.

Harry look confused. "What?"

"I have been to this shop" He counts the tattoos on his body, pointing to each one as he goes, "Thirty-five times and you do not work here."

"I work here. Maybe you've just never seen me." He pauses. "Did you point to your butt? You have a tattoo on your lil booty?"

"That is besides the point," Louis says. He does. He's never showing anyone that tattoo. "I had an appointment today with -"

"No, not a lil booty. You have quite a nice, round bum. Very peachy. I like." Harry blows a kiss in the general direction of Louis' ass.

"Did you just blow my arse a kiss?"

Harry ignores the question. "Now what kind of design were you thinking? A dragon? I recommend the unicorn. Look, it's riding a dragon. Two in one. Bam."

Louis groans. "I do not want that," he says.

 

A little while later, Louis is sitting down in the chair as Harry merrily tattoos away at his forearm.

Harry reveals the tattoo.

 _"Are you fucking kidding me?"_ Louis demands. "This is _not_ what I wanted."

It's the word _Styles_ written in a curlicue script. "It's so I'll always be with you," Harry explains.

"No. Cover this up. Make it into a bunch of flowers or some shit. I am not having your last name tattooed on my arm."

" _Our_ last name."

_How am I ever going to get rid of you?_

 

Louis has his list of terms taped to his wall. He's staring at it while he eats pistachio ice cream directly from the carton.

Harry hasn't contacted him for four days. Louis doesn't know whether to be scared or relieved.

"Zayn," he says through the phone, "I haven't seen or talked to Harry in four days."

"Harry? Your husband Harry?"

"Yes. No. He's not my husband."

"Sounds like you miss him," says Zayn.

"I don't! He's usually pestering me 24/7 and now he's gone AWOL for four days? It's scary. What if he's dead? What if he's stuck in a pit somewhere?"

"Admit it. You miss your husband."

"I don't."

"You miss you husband," singsongs Zayn. "You _miss_ your husband."

"I don't miss my husband."

Two knocks come at his door. "Hold on, Zayn, someone's come to my house," he says.

At the door stands a delivery man and Perrie.

"Perrie."

"Louis."

"What are you doing here?"

"Did you forget?" she says, clearly offended. "I can't believe you forgot."

"Forget what?"

"Our _Japan trip,_ you fuckface."

The mailman gasps and covers his ears.

"Oh, come on," snaps Perrie. "You're like, what? Twenty?"

"Wait, who are you?" asks Louis.

"My name is Liam Payne. I like chocolate, sushi, and weightlifting."

"Thanks for the autobiography."

"You're welcome."

"But what are you here for?" asks Louis.

"I'm here to deliver your subscription of _All Kinks Kinky,"_ he replies, holding out a thick magazine.

" _All Kinks Kinky?_ " Perrie says, looking between Louis and the mailman.

"Oh my God," Louis says.

"I'm not judging," says Perrie, with a judgmental expression.

"You're judging," says Liam the mailman.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Wait, what Japan trip?" asks Louis.

"Our flight is in an hour, Louis. Get in the car."

She grabs his arm and drags him towards the car, pushing him into the passenger seat before getting into the car herself and revving up the engine.

"I didn't pack," Louis protests.

"Wait, what about your _All Kinks Kinky?"_ cries Liam after them, waving the magazine in the air.

" _All Kinks Kinky?"_ Zayn asks.

"It's my sister's magazine," Louis explains. "Hold on. Zayn? What are you doing here?"

Zayn waves from the backseat. "I'm going to Japan."

"Can someone _please_ explain to me why we're going to Japan?" asks Louis.

"For coffee," is Perrie's answer.

"Excuse me?'

"Wait. Shut up." Zayn says abruptly. "Guys. shut up." He leans over to the control panel and turns to volume up.

"What? What's wrong?" says Louis, panicked.

"This is my favourite radio host," says Zayn. "No one speak."

Louis opens his mouth, but Zayn clamps a hand over it.

"I said. Don't. Speak."

"Mmf-"

"I swear to God, Louis. One sound." Zayn says, with the quietest voice Louis has ever heard. "And you will never see your loved ones ever again."

Louis shuts up.

Louis is still too afraid to open his mouth by the time they arrive at the airport. He still doesn't know why they're there, even though Perrie is furiously explaining the itinerary to him.

"Tomorrow we'll visit Akihabara, and then overmorrow, we're going on a day trip to Mount Fuji. Sound good?"

Louis nods.

"Do not fuck this up for us, Louis."

Louis nods.

They're sitting at the terminal, waiting for their section to be called to board the plane. Zayn is balancing an almond on his nose while Perrie times him on her watch.

"Mr. Tomlinson!"

Louis turns abruptly, knocking into Zayn and making the almond fall. "God fucking damnit, Louis." he and Perrie say in unison.

Louis ignores them and looks for the source of the call -

Liam Payne the mailman is running towards them, dropping letters everywhere and sweating. "Your All Things Kinky magazine. You didn't take it!"

"Oh, shit," Louis says. "Guys. Let's go." He gets up and starts running for the entrance, cutting the line.

"Sir! Your magazine! _Sir! All Kinks Kinky?_ "

Louis knows his face is beet red as he clambers onto the plane, empty handed. The flight attendant stares at him. "All Kinks Kinky?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Louis says.

Her face falls. "I love that magazine," she says.


	4. "zayn. gross."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which active chainsaws are discussed, there are no staff on the plane, band aids from blow jobs are involved, zayn wants liam's satisfying package.

Remember when Louis had felt saddened upon thinking that he had never stepped foot outside the UK?

"Yes, Louis, this counts as 'outside of the UK,'" says Zayn for the sixth time. "Japan is bloody outside the UK."

"Have you ever wondered exactly how much sky countries own?" Louis asks. "Like, if I were standing on the border of the United States and Mexico and looked at the sky, would I be looking at the United States' sky or Mexico's sky?"

"I don't fucking know, Louis."

"Like, countries own land horizontally, right? Do they own the air? Like vertically? If I  could fly, would I be in a country?"

"Louis, I will punch you in the fucking face. With a chainsaw."

"I know for a fact you don't own a chainsaw, Zayn."

"We will land in Japan, and I will buy a chainsaw from the nearest convenience store. And I will punch you in the face with it. After I turn it on."

"I'm certain they don't sell chainsaws in convenience stores."

"In Japan, they do."

"Zayn."

"Louis."

"I miss Perrie."

Perrie is unfortunately seated a few rows away from them, out of sight.

Sandwiched in between Zayn and Louis is a man who was chewing his nails anxiously, staring from Louis to Zayn, to Louis, to Zayn.

Louis gets the feeling the man is slightly uncomfortable. He decides to try to lighten the mood.

"So anyway, thanks for bringing me to Japan. This is going to be sick."

"Wait. Who says we're bringing you?" says Zayn. "We're not paying for all your shit."

Louis' stomach drops to his heels. "What?"

"What?" says Zayn.

The man chews his nails harder.

"How did I get on this plane?" says Louis.

"I-"

"That's it. Now _I'm_ going to punch _you_ in the face. With an active chainsaw."

"Hey, that was _my_ idea. Wait, oh, shit."

The man has ripped this middle fingernail clean off.

"Shit, shit." Zayn looks around. "Hello? Attendant?"

No one comes.

Zayn presses the overhead button marked _call for assistance._ "Are you okay, mate?"

"Don't hurt me," the man whispers.

"I think you scared him with your chainsaw talk, Zayn." interjects Louis.

"Oh, psh, _my_ chainsaw talk? _My chainsaw talk?_ "

"Where are the fucking attendants on this thing?" Louis says, standing up and looking around. He hits his head. Oh, fuck, ow."

"I think I have a Band-Aid," says Zayn, digging around in his pockets.

"Attendant? Please?" asks Louis loudly. A middle aged woman shushes him.

"We have an injury," Louis says, louder.

Three more people turn to glare at him.

"Sit down, you knob," calls out a feminine voice a few rows behind him.

"Perrie?" says Louis.

"Who?" says Perrie, sliding on a pair of oversized sunglasses and slumping down in her chair.

Not a single flight attendant is to be seen.

"Oh, I found one," says Zayn. "Check this out, mate. It was in my underwear waistband. It must've been from the time after that guy blew me and his teeth scraped my -"

"Do we have _any_ staff on this plane?" yells Louis.

No one answers. The man's face is getting paler by the second.

"OK, that's it." Louis announces, shuffling defiantly from his window seat to the aisle. "Who is captaining this plane? Can I speak to the captain?"

"Who is he?" yells Perrie again. "Who's this douchebag?"

"Perrie, I know that's you. I bought you those sunglasses."

Louis walks up the aisle to the front of the plane. Still, no one stops him. He's beginning to get anxious. Are there really no staff here?

He opens the door to the control room. "Hello?"

The pilot and co-pilot's seats are both empty.

"Hello?" Louis draws the word out this time, looking from right to left.

This can't be happening. This is not possible. How is the plane flying without an pilots? What's going on? Louis' heart begins racing. Is will need to fly this plane? Is the fate of all the passengers on his tiny hands?

"Boo!"

Louis clutches his heart and falls to the floor. The last thing he remembers before he hits the floor is dark brown curls bending over him.

" _Harry?_ "

 

***

"So, the pilots thought it would be a good idea to jump up and scare you while you were seeking help during a flight, dealing with anxiety as you were afraid a man was going to faint from having a fingernail torn off?" asks the woman sitting across from him.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Japanese," Louis murmurs, touching the side of his bandaged head.

The woman looks more concerned than ever. "I'm Portugese." she writes down something on her notepad.

"Oh." Louis looks up. Louis doesn't like to be one for stereotyping, but judging by her face, she is clearly not Japanese. She also speaks English in an impeccable American accent. "What are you taking notes for?"

"For the insurance claim," she explains. "We've had complaints about this airline for years. Judging by what I've heard, you have a pretty solid case, Mr. Tomlinson."

"What happened to me?" he asks.

"Minor concussion. No extreme physical activity for you."

"So, like usual, then."

"What?" she says.

"What?" he answers. "Where am I?"

"You're in Japan," she says.

"That's funny," says Louis. "I distinctly remember being on a plane."

"Are you alright, Mr. Tomlinson?"

"I'm just joking. I remember everything. Wait. Except." He pauses, remembering the traumatizing image he'd seen just before he'd blacked out. He sits bolt upright. "Who was the pilot?"

"Oh, she's waiting just outside for you. To apologize."

"She?" gasps Louis. "Oh, thank God." He sinks back into his pillows. So the pilot wasn't Harry.

"Oh...kay," she says, jotting down another note.

 

 

Japan is beautiful.

What is the most beautiful part of it? The trains arrive _on time._

Not so beautiful? Louis' legs. they're covered in mosquito bites.

"This place is the fucking best," Zayn says, wiping a tear from his eye. "And if you tell anybody I cried, I will end you."

"So. Many. _Kit Kat Flavours."_ Perrie sighs, her mouth full.

Between their flight landing and now, Perrie has managed to dye her hair bright pink, which has all the locals staring.

A middle aged man approaches them on the train. "Excuse me," he says. "Do you live in Japan?"

"Er, no," Zayn answers.

"I wasn't talking to you, small man," he says. "I was talking to her."

"Me?" says Perrie. "I don't live in Japan."

"Would you _like_ to?" he asks.

"Excuse me?" she says.

"Will you be a model for my company?" he says.

"OK, this is getting creepy," says Louis. "No, she won't. Sorry, bye."

 

They visit a maid cafe in Akihabara, and after they're seated, they're informed that their maid, LiLi, will come to serve them soon. Louis settles down in his seat comfortably. It's so pastel and beautiful here. Finally, he feels like he can forget his head injury and calm down.

"Liam?" comes Perrie's shriek. Louis' head snaps up.

"Shh, guys, no, call me LiLi." comes the reply, and Louis nearly shits himself.

Approaching them is none other than Liam the mailman, adorned in a short skirt and kitten ears, clutching the magazine.  No. No, no, no.

"Your All Kinks Kinky magazine," Liam says timidly. "My wage will go down if this doesn't get to the customer, I'll be fired, ple-"

Louis stands up. "I'm sorry. I really truly am. You know what? Keep the magazine. Keep it." Louis gives Liam a once-over in his maid outfit. "I think...I think you might enjoy it more than I would."

"I must satisfy the customer," Liam insists, slowly stepping towards him as Louis backs away.

"Could you satisfy me?" Zayn pipes up, licking his lips, eyes skirting up and down Liam's frame.

All three of them turn to look at him.

"Zayn. Gross," says Louis. "Liam, how did you get here?"

"FastPack _guarantees_ that all packages are delivered and satisfy the customer. I will _not_ taint my company's reputation because of an _All Kinks Kinky_ magazine."

"Hey, could. Could you satisfy _me_ with your package?" Zayn asks.

"Zayn, _gross._ " Louis repeats, and makes a run for it. He can't tell if Liam is following him.

He _needs_ to revoke his All Kinks Kinky subscription.

Zayn and Perrie finally catch up to him, jumping onto the train just as the door begin to close. Liam is nowhere in sight. When they sit down, Zayn keep crossing and uncrossing his legs, appearing uncomfortable.

"What happened to Liam?" asks Louis.

"I locked him in a bathroom for you," Perrie says. "No thanks to _Zayn_ here. He kept on begging me to keep him."

Zayn doesn't say anything. They both look over at him.

He crosses his legs. Uncrosses. Then crosses them again.

"Are you OK?" asks Louis.

Zayn non-so-discreetly places his hands over his nether region.

"Zayn, are you -" Louis starts and Perrie groans. "Zayn, you are disgusting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where was harry this chapter? don't worry, he'll come back. Also, Perrie is accidentally a main character. Sorry. She'll leave the main stage soon.


	5. pink fliers and fake names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namaste and kidnappings.

The headlights of cars speed by, little blinking eyes that glance over at Louis, disappearing into the dark abyss that is the night.

Louis holds a can of Mount Fuiji air and nothing else. For some reason, the taxi driver keeps looking at him strangely.

Louis feels strangely sedated-he is filled with all the complimentary peanuts and pretzels the airline had to offer. Happy memories of Japan are still fresh in his mind, like the smells of cheesecakes and convenience stores that had the best ice creams.

Lacking a Zayn, Perrie, Niall, or even Liam to distract him, Louis finds his mind set to wandering mode. It traipses its way over the hilltops, tiptoeing its way to the stars and winds its way back - and, of course, decides to crash-land on his curly-haired nightmare.

Louis groans a little and slumps to the side of his faux-leather seat and fastens his fingers firmly around the canister. His mind is taking him places where he does not want it to go. Namely, a place where he feels concerned.

For Harry.

Louis creates a personal list of reasons why he should not be feeling any concern whatsoever for Harold Catty Styles or whatever his name is. Firstly, the farther away from Harry Louis stays, the better. Why? Because Harry likes cats. Louis cannot stand cats. Harry is does not follow tattoo-creating instructions, like "do not tattoo your last name on me, even if it is also technically my last name too." He brings Louis on Costco dates. Since when was going to Costco a date? Since never, that's when. Louis nods firmly to himself.

He will not, repeat not, try to call Harry. Show interest in his whereabouts. Do any activity involving him aside from finding a really good divorce lawyer.

Still, the absolute radio silence is uncanny. Surely Harry should have been, at the very least, waiting at the airport?

But.

Louis. Does. Not. Care.

Nor will he ever.

"This is your stop then, mate." says the driver, lifting his eyes to look in the rearview mirror at Louis.

"Right," says Louis, promptly exiting the vehicle.

"Wait, what about payment?" demands the driver.

And shit.

Because all Louis has to pay with is a can of Mount Fuji air, and considering what he had to go through to get it, is priceless.

"Oi! Louis!" A familiar voice rings out behind him.

Louis looks upwards and quietly thanks Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all their other relatives, because Niall is staggering towards them through the darkness. Good Niall. Rich Niall.

"Nialler, could you pay this lovely man for my ride here? I've not got any cash on me. I'll pay you back."

Niall shrugs and pulls out a few bills from his back pocket and thrusts them at the driver, who grumbles and speeds away after doling out some change.

“Niall. What are you doing here?” Louis says with amazement.

“Funny story, actually.” Niall pauses. “Nah, not that funny. I was just stopping by to check that you were alive.”

“Of course I’m alive,” says Louis in bewilderment. “Why would you think I wasn’t?”

“We were all pretty worried about you, to be honest,” says Niall.  “Usually no two days go by without a needy text from you demanding I buy milk  or something.”

That’s fair.

“Why did you show up at the dead of night?” says Louis.

“I got too lazy to walk home,” Niall shrugs. “Hey, why do you smell like week-old laundry and literally only carrying a can with a Japanese label?”

  
  
  


The next morning smells like peace, tranquility, nirvana (what does that even mean?) and Niall’s breath.

“Namaste,” greets Louis, cracking his neck. He doesn’t know what “namaste” means either. Niall mumbles something and rolls over on the bed, scratching his stomach.

It’s time for work.

The walk to the restaurant he works at seems to be a lot more colourful than usual. Perhaps it’s on account of the fact that for some reason, there are pink and yellow fliers pinned to every corner and lamppost. Louis has never been one for blatant advertising. He  _ always _ skips YouTube ads after five seconds. 

He strolls along, Ed Sheeran songs whistling in his eardrums, hands wrapped up in the pockets of his jacket. He fixes his fringe the the window of a bakery quickly before he goes on his way.

Louis stops.

Something in the window has caught his eye.

It’s a picture of Louis.

Granted, the picture is flattering and amazing, making his eyes look bluer and his collarbones look sharper. 

The picture is on a pink flier. Identical to all the pink fliers he’s been seeing along his route.

According to this flier, Louis is a missing person.

With a cash reward of. Five thousand and eighty dollars.

Before he has time to process this, Louis is pulled bodily from the sidewalk and dragged into a moving vehicle.

  
  


Louis wonders if this is how he dies.

He can picture the blurb they’ll write about him in the newspapers -  _ Louis William Tomlinson. Aged 23. Found dead clutching a can of air.His friends and family are distraught, not knowing how this could have  happened. He will be remembered as - _

Louis stops. What will he be remembered as? A loving friend? Probably not. An admirable addition to society as a whole? Nope. A wanker whose greatest strength is looking good in tight jeans and making demands? Probably.

Louis frowns a little. That’s not how he would like to be remembered. If he gets out of the trunk of this truck, he pledges that he will become a better person. He’ll treat everyone like they were shat directly out of God’s asshole. Hell, he’ll even stay married to Harry forever and ever and make tons of babies with him and name then all some word that’s in the back of a thesaurus that’ll be a bitch to pronounce and even worse to write down on legal documents. Their kids will have the longest names in the world. Like Jeremiah Wellington Oxymoron Tomlinson-Styles. And Louis will never text Niall again for milk. Or steal his condoms and toothpaste. Or puke in his sink. Or borrow his underwear. Or walk into his room when there’s a sock on the doorknob. He’ll read each and every All Kinks Kinky magazine until the day that he dies.

Or, he could just die today.

The truck makes a sharp stop and Louis hits his head against the floor. He groans, trying to sit up and falling back down because although he may be small, the trunk of this car is smaller. Muffled voices begin creeping into Louis’ ears.

“We sure it’s him?”

“Yeah. Have you seen his collarbones?”

“Mate, you said that last time.”

“I told you, Dustin, I’m not even a little bit gay!”

“Wyatt, for some reason I don’t believe that.”

“Trust me. This is the one.”

“The one?”

“The one.”

“The one what?” Louis hollers from his trunk.

The men go silent. Perhaps alerting them that he was conscious wasn’t such a good idea.

“Well, he’s awake,” says Dustin.

“Can I open it?” asks Wyatt.

“Wait.” says Dustin. There are footsteps, and Dustin’s voice comes closer. “Kid, what’s your name?”

“Niall,” Louis says instantly.

“ _ No,” _ Wyatt says in horror. “But - but his collarbones!”

Dustin sighs loudly.

“It’s a fake name. Obviously.”

“Oh, thank God,” says Wyatt.

“Wait, how do you know?” demands Louis.

“What kind of fucking name is Niall?” says Dustin. And the trunk swings open.

 

Louis should make a run for it. He should make a run for it  _ now. _ Which would have been a lot more helpful of a thought if he’d thought of it a few seconds earlier.

Dustin and Wyatt are  _ big. _ These two are the largest fucking blokes Louis has ever seen. They could be bodyguards for the queen, and could probably break Louis’ neck in two nanoseconds if he tried to escape.

“Come with us,” Dustin grunts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anybody actually want this fic to keep going or should i just fade away lmfao


	6. all tied up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (louis gets in a sticky situation involving two larger-than-average men. cue explosions.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is short like lewis

Louis staggers to his feet, looking around. They’re standing in front of what seems to be an abandoned warehouse with barbed wire around the frames of doors. Louis isn’t sure how that placement does anything to deter break-ins.

He doesn’t voice this, though. Louis toddles along in between the two gigantic men, hands tied.

In another context, this scenario would have been great.

(Wink wink.)

Louis exits his filthy thoughts.

The trio are inside the warehouse now, and it’s a proper horror movie scene. Pipes are dripping, their footsteps sound hollow, and Louis can’t see more than five feet ahead of him. Dustin and Wyatt seem to have the place memorized.

“So,” says Wyatt after a moment.

Louis keeps his mouth shut.

“Er. What do you do for a living?”

“ _ Wyatt!” _ says Dustin in exasperation, stopping in his tracks.

“What?” Wyatt says.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop that. That thing.”

“What?”

“Stop flirting with the hostages.”

“I’m not gay!”

“You keep saying that.”

“I’m not even a  _ little _ bit gay. Just because you’re  _ three minutes older than me -” _

“I’m a server,” supplies Louis.

Dustin and Wyatt stop.

“Let’s just go,” sighs Dustin.

“What do  _ you _ do?” Louis asks Wyatt.

“Well, I’m a bodyguard,” says Wyatt.

“A bodyguard? That’s  _ wicked, _ mate.”

Wyatt looks over Louis’ head at Dustin. “ _ He called me ‘mate’,” _ he whispers.

“Stop relaying your entire life story to someone who can get us arrested, Wyatt.”

Wyatt ignores him. “Yeah, I’m Dustin’s bodyguard. Dustin is my brother. He’s also a hitman.”

Louis nods carefully. Great. This is just spectacular. He’s been kidnapped by a hitman and brought into a sketchy warehouse with broken pipes and bad lighting. If he makes it out alive, this will be one hell of a fucking story.

“And if fucking sucks sometimes, you know?” Wyatt says, shoulders deflating a little. Louis is taken aback. “Sometimes  _ I _ just want to shoot stuff, you know? Why couldn’t it be me? Dustin has always been like, the  _ golden boy _ of our family. Of the training camp. And i’m just his fucking bodyguard now. I bodyguard my brother. Do you know how depressing that is?”

“Er,” Louis says. “It’s still a pretty cool job. You get to be there for everything, but you’re not blamed for the shit that happens to people.”

“You think so?” says Wyatt.

“I mean, yeah,” says Louis. “You’re what, 25?”

“24,” says Wyatt.

“Yeah, twenty-four. You’re twenty-four and you’re living, damnit. You’re  _ living. _ You’ve doing something exciting, and you’ve got your lifetime ahead of you to keep climbing the ladder. Maybe one day you’ll become bodyguard for, I don’t know. The queen. Or something.” Louis has no idea what he’s saying. “See, I’m twenty-three and I’m a server at a restaurant. I don’t even get leftovers most of the time. And all I do at my fancy internship is make coffee and sign for packages that get sent in.”

“I guess I’m living,” says Wyatt. “You know, you’re really nice. I feel like we get on really well.”

“I suppose,” says Louis through a toothy grin, tugging on the restraints on his wrists as he is escorted by a hitman and his bodyguard to an uncertain death.

“Hey, are you gay?” asks Wyatt.

“Correct. I am a homosexual,” says Louis.

Wyatt is quiet for a few moments and the only sound is their footsteps down thecorridor. It’s only when Louis looks to him that he realizes that Wyatt is crying.

He’s shedding tears. Like, real life huge tears that are falling down his cheeks in globs. He’s crying.

“Are you OK?” asks Louis.

“You’re so  _ brave,”  _ whispers Wyatt. “The way you said it. It was like you didn’t even care.”

“It’s just a fact,” replies Louis.

“ _ Just a fact,” _ Wyatt marvels. “You’re. Wow.”

It dawns upon Louis. This is a man going through a sexuality crisis.

“It’s OK to be confused,” Louis says. “I had a long period of time when I didn’t know how to tell anyone. I didn’t want to admit it to myself. But then I started thinking, ‘hey, maybe everybody is gay!’ and I forgot about it. And I think after that, all my friends turned out to be gay. Well, some of them. I think Zayn’s bi and Niall’s so straight you could use him as a ruler, but a lot of people in my life are gay. Being gay isn’t a big deal.”

“Wow,” repeats Wyatt.

Dustin opens a door marked  _ no entry. _ Louis almost had forgotten he was there. The door leads into an empty room, which is anticlimactic.

“But anyway,” continues Wyatt, “I really should stop flirting with you because -”

The lights flicker out and everything goes silent. Louis hadn’t noticed the consistent purring of machinery up until now, as it cuts out. There’s total quiet and Louis instinctively grabs onto Dustin’s arm.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” grunts Dustin.

Something explodes.

It takes Louis a moment to notice the horrid smell he’s inhaling is dust and smoke, and he didn’t think it could get much darker in here, but. Well. Louis drops to his hands and knees, doubling over. A part of him realizes this could be his chance to get away from the hitmen, but another part realizes that if he makes a run for it, he could be falling into even worse hands.

But at this point, Louis can’t even locate Wyatt and Dustin, who seems to be as caught off guard as Louis is. So as Louis’ primal instincts kick in, he knows that a) he is small, too small for this situation. He’s barely 5’9, OK? He tells people he’s 5’9, but he’s really not, b) he never fights people unless he’s drunk, and c) if he doesn’t get out of here soon he will  _ literally stop breathing. _ So he chooses flight, not fight. 

Louis crawls.

There’s another fucking explosion, this time a spark of red and bright white flash some five feet in front of Louis, who swears and scrambles to his feet.

Then a pair of arms is enveloping Louis, who is currently out of sorts and feeling extremely dazed and hazy and faded, so he welcomes it, impending death be damned.

 

He barely registers the solid ground as it makes contact with his spine. He groans and rolls to his side, coughing. A chunk of saliva rolls out of the side of his mouth. He still smells like smoke, but the scenery around him has changed. There are steely grey walls but he can see the sky. Hes outside.

Louis blinks.

Slowly.

It takes him a full sixty-five seconds before he realizes.

He tilts his chin to the sky and lets out a half sigh, mostly groan at the clouds. Because of fucking course.   
  


“Harry,” he says to the figure leaning over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need the t r uth how tall even is louis


End file.
